


Happiness Unravelled

by kirasha, Titti



Category: NCIS: Los Angeles
Genre: Community: smallfandombang, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-14
Updated: 2012-04-14
Packaged: 2017-12-15 20:39:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 23,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/853824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kirasha/pseuds/kirasha, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Titti/pseuds/Titti
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the emotional impact of his mission in Sudan, Sam must reevaluate his life and marriage, and finds that the thing he needs the most is his partner.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Happiness Unravelled

**Author's Note:**

> This fic starts at the end of 3x09 Betrayal and goes AU after that.

Everything was back to normal. His wife thought that he was back from Miami; his wedding ring was back on his finger, at least for the short time he was in the house; he was back to work. Really, nothing had changed.

Except everything had.

He wasn't sure why he'd needed this case to see the obvious truth that had been staring at his face for so long. He'd been married for over a decade and not once during his marriage was he tempted to tell her the truth. At first, she knew that he was in the Navy, but she never knew his true assignment, either on Team 2 or Team 6. Then when NCIS came, he could have told her. He should have. He never did.

He was an experienced field agent and it took him over a decade and another woman to make him realize that his marriage wasn't working. It wasn't the lies he'd told Jada that brought about this realization. They weren't the first lies and wouldn't be the last. It wasn't the fact he wanted to run off with her, because he didn't. It was the fact that, in that hotel room, for one moment, he'd considered having sex with her because of the mission, never thinking about his wife. But then, G had shown up and somehow things had made sense again.

Sam wished it were always this easy, because he was sitting in G's car, staring outside as they went back to work, and things weren't so clear cut like they were in the field. Some days, he really wished that he could go from case to case without a break. Some days, he got lucky and got his wish. Today wasn't that day.

G kept an eye on Sam through his peripheral vision, not staring or giving any indication he was paying attention to the quiet man. It had been a hellish couple of days. G would have been more surprised if Sam weren't pensive and trapped inside his head.

Hell, G still had Sudan inside _his_ head. He had really thought this was it, when he'd gone over there. The only thing harder than having to tell Kensi and Deeks he was going to identify a body, which could be Sam, had been actually staring at the shrouded body knowing he had to lift that cloth and potentially see the man who had been his partner and friend for five years turned into Memorial Day barbecue.

Truth be told, he was still a little pissed at Sam's cavalier attitude once G found him. He'd been terrified and Sam had been crusading. But, venting that now wouldn't do either of them any good. Sam needed something rock solid after what had happened in the hanger at Coronado. When the Big Guy got his feet under him again, got some distance from those feelings, then they would talk about Sudan.

Or, G would get over it.

Whichever came first.

"Your coffee's getting cold." G had swung by the coffee shop before picking Sam up, greeting him with a steaming cup as soon as his partner came out the door. It wasn't much as welcome home gestures went. But, overt wasn't really their style.

"Maybe today is the day that I switch to tea." That was as likely as him telling his wife what he did for a living, though. "Or maybe, you can never get the right one. It's a vanilla double espresso latte with cocoa powder on top. You can remember pages and pages of classified information, but nothing this simple," he said, although he wasn't upset and the coffee was just fine. He might like his morning caffeine to come in certain ways, but he'd drunk plenty of stuff that was a lot worse than this.

Bantering with G was a lot more pleasant than contemplating the state of his marriage.

"Simple," G repeated. "Vanilla double espresso latte with cocoa powder on top is about as simple as guessing one of Hetty's passwords based on what books are on the shelf behind her desk. Here." They were coming up to the signal and once they stopped, G switched their cups in the drink holders. "Now you can have my tea and I'll have the coffee," he declared with a smirk.

"You could have remembered the white chocolate mocha with whipped cream or the caramel macchiato. I would have taken either." He glared at G for good measure because it was one thing not to get the right coffee, but it was another to switch it with hot water and some flavor. Sam reached for his cup and took a sip. "I'll text you my order tomorrow. Better yet, I'll get the coffee so I can drive." The words were right, the banter was there, but he was still staring out of the window, mind going over the last few years of his marriage.

Sam took another sip and then turned his head to look at G. "She asked me if Miami was good. She still doesn't know what I do. I should have told her long ago."

The light changed, forcing G to keep his eyes on the road. But, when it seemed like the plastic models of dinosaurs in the Tar Pits were moving faster than morning traffic as they drove past, he turned to regard the other man in silence for a moment, looking for the right words.

G knew Sam's family. His kids called him 'Uncle Callen'. But, there was always a disconnect. G got to see a part of Sam the woman married to him didn't even know existed, got to share something with him she never would. If he was honest with himself, he kind of liked that. G and Sam had been partners half as many years or less than Sam had been married and G could most likely say he knew Sam better than anyone, even his wife.

Not that Sam needed that sort of honesty from him right now.

"What was it Hetty told Kensi last year when she was trying to pass herself off to her friend as a gallery curator? Sometimes it's better to let the lie stand." And this was why G didn't get involved very often. If he'd needed an object lesson, seeing Kristin Donnelly again almost two years ago had done the trick. "It's not easy."

"She also told you that you could tell people, very few, granted. The ones that are going to stay in our lives. She's my wife; we have children together; and she doesn't know. She doesn't even know I was a SEAL, G. Nothing." He shook his head. "This is more than letting a lie stand. In all of these years, it never occurred to me to tell her the truth, and she- She's never suspected or never asked."

He stared out for another long minute. "I'm not in love with Jada, but I realized how easy the lies were, how much it wouldn't have bothered me. I avoided sex because it complicated thing, because of our faith, because it's wrong, but not because I'm married. What does that say about my marriage?"

"You're asking me?' G shook his head, disbelieving. "My marriage was a cover, a lie I let myself believe the truth of too deeply. The only truly long lasting relationship of any kind I've had is our partnership. I'm not even counting Gibbs' friendship because that has been mostly long distance for as long as you've been married anyway. What I know about day-to-day, long-term commitments fits on a postage stamp with room to spare."

G sighed. He might not know about the commitments, but he knew about being lied to for years and he knew about settling. "The lie gets old," he said after a while. "Sooner or later, we all want to stop lying. I tried to tell Kristin two years ago. She wouldn't let me, didn't want to know. After a certain amount of time, maybe it's too late? The truth causes more harm than good and doesn't set us free."

Sam cracked a smile, because he knew how absurd it was to ask G for relationship advice, but he didn't have anyone else he trusted. "We're so warped." He shook his head, and then looked at G again. "People have families and friends they trust, and then they have colleagues they tolerate. We have colleagues, partners we trust, and families and friends we tolerate. Or just families." He looked at G. "Or not even that. I guess you couldn't do our job if you had other priorities."

He fell silent again. What did it say that, of all the people in OSP, he was the only one with a spouse and children, and, most of the time, it was as if she didn't exist. If it weren't for the kids, he might never make it home at night, spending his time at the office or with his partner.

"I don't want to stop the lie; that's the problem," Sam added after a moment. "I don't want her to know. She's barely part of my life and I've been wondering why we're still married."

"Because you want the lie?" G suggested, carefully keeping his eyes on the road. "You want that sort of connection, thought you'd found it, haven't been ready to admit this isn't it?"

Wilshire opened up and he could pick up speed. Driving gave G something to focus on other than the conversation, other than problems in his partner's life G couldn't fix. He would go to hell and back for Sam, but he couldn't make this choice for him. "What makes you happy, Sam? Really happy, not what normal people with normal jobs and normal life expectancies think should make you happy. What really makes you, Sam Hanna, want to get up in the morning? When you can answer that, you'll know why you're still married and if you should be."

"I want... the kids to be happy and to know that they have a father that loves them. I grew up in a black neighborhood in Brooklyn, where most kids didn't have a father. I want them to have one, and if we split up-" He shook his head again. "With this job, I could never have regular visiting hours. I barely see them as is. The marriage feels like another cover."

Sam snorted. "What makes me happy? Coming to work, doing my job, arguing why you can never get my coffee right even after five years, discussing why paper does _not_ make tea taste different, catching the bad guys. This is who I am, what makes me happy, and I should want to share this part of me with her, but I don't."

"You want honesty, Big Guy? It sounds like you've already made your decision; you're just trying to see if I can or will talk you out of it." Taking the turn off Wilshire and toward the office, he cut a glance at the man in his passenger seat. "I think you _are_ tired of the lie, but instead of wanting to share it, you just want out all together.

"You're married to the job as much as I am, Sam, and you've grown tired of the mistress on the side. You love your kids. You care about your wife. You're in love with the work we do. If what you really want is an out, we can find ways to keep you in your kids' lives as much as possible. It's up to you to decide if you want out or not."

G had nailed it, not that it was a surprise, but Sam had made his decision in that hotel room. Or maybe that was the moment when he'd finally been honest with himself. "Or I'm looking for someone to tell me I'm crazy to throw out years of marriage for no reason. We get along, she doesn't ask questions, we have two beautiful children." They sounded like excuses even to himself. Those were all the reasons why he had stayed with his wife in the past, never feeling guilty when he was spending the holidays with G and using work as an excuse.

"It's not going to be easy. We can't predict the hours and if she doesn't agree. I can't even explain to a judge. Everything is classified. Even our W2s aren't what they are supposed to be." He sighed again. "I guess I need to have this discussion with her and not you, but it's not easy when I can't tell her half of this stuff." He sighed. "Hetty called me the anchor of this team, but she's wrong. We're a net, so intertwined we can't function or trust anyone else outside the team."

"You _are_ crazy," G replied, laughing. "But, getting out of a marriage that doesn't satisfy or make you happy, isn't why. Talk to her. We'll figure it out."

It was what they did. Problems came up, they figured them out.

* * *

Sam showed up at G's close to midnight. He had his car, a duffel bag only slightly more filled than usual and nothing else. It had started like a normal, civilized conversation, but the more he tried to explain what was happening, the angrier his wife got, the more questions she asked, the less he could explain, until she'd told him to leave the house. She had been nice enough to let him get his bag, or at least that was her version.

He looked around, memorizing the little details as he waited for G to open the door. "It was this or a hotel, and I didn't have time to check a hotel out, even if they have beds... and TVs."

"Ah, but Casa Callen has the important amenities." G stood aside to let Sam in the house. Who'd have thought that some day it'd be Sam crashing at his place instead of G stealing couch space at the Hannas? "Free beer." He smirked. "Go ahead and toss your stuff somewhere and I'll grab us a couple."

There wasn't any sense in looking around. The house was still empty save for the chair. He put the bag down near the fireplace just because if he was going to sit on the floor, he might as well have the bag nearby. "Is this why you only have beer in your house? You need to get drunk to forget that you're missing a few things? Like a couch, or beds." He might have to be here, but he could still complain, especially if it meant not talking about why he was here in the first place.

"I should have gone to the office," he muttered under his breath as he looked around once more. Maybe he might still do it and beat the morning rush hour traffic. "What do you do all night?"

"The same things I did all night when I crashed at your house." G came back into the front room with a bottle in each hand, offering one to Sam with a quiet chuckle. "Or drive. Driving's good. Sitting, too," he added, pointing at the chair. "Your old bones can have the chair."

Sleeping arrangements might be an issue. But, G didn't sleep much anyway, so maybe he'd just give over the bedroll in the other room to Sam. Sitting arrangements were easy, though, and G settled comfortably on the floor across from his partner.

"Talk radio." He continued the list of things he did at night while opening his beer. "You missed it the other night, actually. This guy who shall remain nameless but sounds a lot like an LAPD detective we both know called in for advice on what to do about his feelings for a coworker." G hadn't told Sam about that because Sam had been late to work, making time with a smoking hot coffee mug that was going to get him burned. But, that part of the explanation didn't need to be brought up just then.

Sam moved around, peeking into the kitchen for a moment and then coming back as if he really need to inspect the house before he made his next comment. "You can't do what you do at my house. There's no TV to watch, no toaster to break apart and no kids that want to jump on top of Uncle Callen. You also don't drive in the house. Man, you really need to get some furniture in here, and that plasma TV, nice 52 inches, surround system, a lazy chair. Make that two."

He finally sat down on the one chair and took a sip of the beer. "Talk radio, huh? I'm not sure what's worse that you listen or that he calls." He rested the bottle on his leg, studying it like it were the most important thing in the universe. "He's stupid. I find that talking to your partner always works." He looked up at G. "She doesn't want me to get near her or the kids until she calls me. She needs time."

"Having a thing for your partner isn't exactly the sort of thing you talk to your partner about," G pointed out, buying himself time to digest the situation at hand.

After a moment, he realized he was the wrong one to offer emotional support. Not that G didn't have feelings or recognize them in others. He just didn't talk about them easily. "And you're just going to stay in a hotel until you figure something out?"

"Anything that happens can be discussed with your partner. It might not be easy, but you still should." In the end, G was the one he trusted and the one he talked to. Hetty got his secrets through his file, but G got his confidences.

Sam shrugged. "A hotel until I can find a place to rent. I'm not going to argue about the house. She and the kids should have it and it's paid up. She can stay rent free, and I'll rent my own place. I don't need much. A room and a kitchen, that's more than enough. I'll try to find something close and shorten our commute in the morning. You can spend a little longer doing... yeah still don't know what you do that makes you late every morning. There's _nothing_ to do in this house."

Taking a pull from his beer, G stared at Sam in silence for a moment, head tilted, considering. He couldn't blame Deeks, really, for not talking to Kensi. G shared a similar background in these matters with the young cop. But, his own partner was more important in that moment than hypothetical what-ifs that were destined to go nowhere.

"So stay here," he offered on impulse before he could wonder just what it was he was getting himself into. "Housing markets and rentals in most of L.A. still suck. So, you're looking at several weeks before you find a place. And you'll need more than a single room if you're ever going to have the kids over to visit you. Leave yourself that option, even if you don't take it. Besides, I've got an extra room and we can get one of those air mattress things so you don't have to lay your creaky old bones on the floor," G teased. "You can even take it with you when you find a place."

Sam looked at G for a second before snorting. "Right, I need the extra room for my kids, but instead I'll just move here where there's a chair and a lamp. No offense, G, but your home decor sucks," he said, chuckling.

He took another sip, before putting the bottle down on the floor. "Thanks for the offer. I appreciate it; I really do, but I can't live like you do. I'd rather stay in a hotel room with a TV than a house with a chair." He smiled a little. "We've lived together already, but I don't think we can do it in this place."

"You'd only be here temporarily." Shifting, G brought his knees up to rest his arms on, bottle dangling from one hand between them. He stared at Sam for another long moment, then shrugged, seemingly unconcerned. "Up to you. Offer's open if you change your mind. But, if you're getting a hotel, get one near your kids. I'm a big boy. I can handle a commute."

Sam chuckled. "I thought the real estate market sucks and it'd be weeks." He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "Seriously, I appreciate what you're doing, and I would take you up on your offer if you had extravagant and unheard of before now objects, such as a bed." He would have preferred this house to a random hotel because of security reasons, but he would also end up strangling G if they had to spend their nights sitting on the floor, looking at each other, before sleeping on the floor. "I'll see what I can find. Somewhere safe, with a kitchen, not too expensive. Yes, I know, I have a few requests, but I'm not going to move every other day, like someone we know."

"Weeks is temporarily to most people. Not like I expect you to still be here, complaining about the lack of amenities, five years from now," G countered with a smirk. His lifestyle wasn't normal even in the land of the not normal. Most people couldn't live like this, not that they wanted to live like this. "That was only once...okay twice. But, I had good reason. I'd been shot the first time and burned the second."

Shaking his head, G reached into the pocket of the leather jacket he hadn't taken off when he got home. Once he found the cell phone in there, he sent a text to Sam's phone. "There. It's secure, moderately priced, and only a couple miles from your place. It's one of those long-term stay places, so there are rooms with kitchens. You can take a look tomorrow."

"You always had a good reason. Too cold, too hot, too quiet, too loud." He remembered that period of time too well. G had been on leave, but Sam made sure to check on him daily once he was well enough to be on his own, and there had been evenings spent together instead of being home. He had been so blind.

Sam had a warm smile on his face as he listened to G. "I bet you have numbers regardless of what my requirements are," he said, not hiding the affection and amusement in his voice. "So what are we going to do tonight? We can't crash at my place, too late for a drive, we can't both sit in this chair. I'd say go to bed, but we're lacking the bed. Do you even have a sleeping bag I can use? Blankets? A pillow? Am I expecting too much?"

G laughed. "I've lived in at least sixty percent of the motels, hotels, and hostels in L.A. You ought to benefit from my experience." Grinning, he finished off his beer and set the empty aside. "It's what partners are for, I thought.

"You're crashing in my room. Bedroll's already out. No pillow, but a spare blanket or two in the closet." He actually kept those on hand in case of something like this. Sam had never needed crash space with him before. G just liked to be prepared. "And you're not arguing, either," he added in a preemptive strike against any protests about kicking G out of his bed. "The person who actually sleeps instead of catnaps takes what passes for a bed here."

"You really don't have to do that, G. I might like a bed, but I've slept sitting up with a rifle in my hands. I can take the floor." Sam picked up his own bottle and finished it off. "Here are blankets and a bedroll. I'm sure we can use what we have to make two somewhat less than comfortable places to sleep." He wouldn't throw G out of his bed and routine. Crashing here was more than enough.

He stood up. "Let's go see what you've got, and maybe you can try those naps earlier in the evening and we can get to work in time for once. I don't even want to think about the debriefing I have to go through when I tell Hetty about the separation."

"I don't have to do a lot of things." Standing as well, G grabbed his bottle and motioned for Sam's so he could deposit them in the kitchen recycle bin. "I choose to do some things, though. And I sleep some nights in that chair you just vacated, anyway. You're not putting me out."

The thought of the debriefing Hetty would put him through, right on the heels of the one he would have just had with the CIA after the Sudan mission had G mentally shuddering. "Don't think about it tonight. We'll go out for steaks as a pick me up when you're done."

"You just want to make sure that I'm awake enough to watch your back." He probably should have argued more, but he was tired and one argument for the night was more than enough. Besides, he knew G didn't sleep through the night. At least one of them might get some sleep. "All right, but next time you'll crash at mine, there'll be a bed for you."

* * *

The longer this debriefing went, the more Sam could see the natural mistrust turning into disappointment, but he couldn't change his answers to please Hetty. 

"No, she was not aware of it." He felt like he had given the same answer for the past few hours. To be fair, he _had_ given the same answer for hours, or variations thereof. 

"Mr. Hanna, we have gone through every mission from your first mission with OSP to Mr. Callen's shooting; you've admitted that he was staying at your house and yet, you claim that your wife did not know anything," she said. 

"Hetty, she thinks we work as consultants. G is an old Navy buddy and he was in a car accident and that's why he was at our place. She does not know what we do," he repeated, losing his patience. 

"I must still ask the questions," Hetty answered. 

"Then, why do I feel like you are judging me for not divulging classified information. Isn't this the best case scenario? I'm getting a divorce and there is no risk of a leak because she doesn't know. I don't see why you should be upset."

Hetty thinned her lips and stared for a moment. "That much is obvious. Let's continue."

* * *

In the end, they skipped the steak. By the time the debriefing was finished and the work day concluded, Sam looked like the last thing he wanted to do was sit in a public place for any length of time. G couldn't really blame him. All that time spent discussing his personal life and detailing what he had and had not told his wife? It made G twitch just to think of it.

So, while he was pleasantly surprised when they got back to his house and Sam followed him in rather than leaving for a hotel, G wasn't _really_ surprised.

"I brought a sleeping bag," Sam said as he dropped both his bag and the sleeping bag in the guest room, preempting any discussion about who was going to sleep where. He might have taken G's spot on the first night, but it wouldn't become a habit.

Sam forewent the chair and sat on the floor, leaning against the wall for support. "We should do something about food," he said without too much conviction. "And possibly get a case where I can chase people and hit someone."

"I promised steak; here's steak that delivers." G tossed a couple menus at Sam from a small stack on the floor by the chair. He didn't order delivery much, usually stopped on the way home or at Sam's. But, there were a few good places in the area, non-chain restaurants that delivered more than pizza or Chinese. "Angus steak with grilled mushrooms there. Or this is a good authentic Mexican. Or, there's Indian. Food Mart's a few blocks away and if you want to skip straight to the liquor, Village Pub's not too far."

Chuckling, he sat on the floor next to his partner. "The case I can't do; but there's room in the backyard for sparring and you can hit me for a while."

Sam picked up the menus, but the choice was made just by listening to G. "Steak with mushroom, and beer will do fine. We have work in the morning, and if I show up hungover, Hetty is going to have my head. She was already less than impressed today." He still didn't get what her problem was. "Remember the Brenner case last year? I got shot, our bikes exploded, we didn't sleep for twenty-four hours and it still was more resting than this debriefing." Sam sighed. "I don't know what she was looking for, and yes, I do understand that she has to ask the question, but this wasn't it. It's almost like she was hoping that I had told my wife about what we do."

G remembered that case. Too well. He still had nightmares some nights, seeing Sam take a hit point blank to the chest. For that second, he'd been sure he was losing his partner and the thought had nearly crippled him once he had time to process it. Only thing worse had been Sudan.

"Maybe she was." G shrugged. There had been a time when he would have said with certainty what he thought Hetty was up to and been reasonably close. But, that had ended a month earlier when he found out she'd been lying to him for all the years he'd known her, that she knew pieces of his past, his family, he'd spent a lifetime looking for and had kept it from him. "You said yourself you should want to share this part of your life with her if the marriage was right."

In an odd deja vu of the night before, G pulled his cell out of his jacket pocket and dialed the restaurant to put in their order. When he was done, he slipped the phone back into his pocket. "Twenty minutes."

Sam had watched G close for a response. It was something that he did out of habit. After years working together, he could tell when there was something going on behind those clear eyes that would make more than one person trust G. He also knew that G would say what he wanted when he wanted, but it didn't stop Sam from pushing, even when he might be misreading the situation.

"I know it's not normal, but as you said, we are not normal. I get that she'd be surprised, wary, suspicious." That last one was the one thing that Sam understood completely. "I don't get why she sounded disappointed, unless she was disappointed in me because she thought I was lying to her about this. Maybe you can speak with her, test the waters, reassure her that my wife never knew anything about the shooting or our partnership or anything else for that matter."

He stared into the empty space in front of him for a moment. He didn't know what Hetty was looking for, but he could only tell her the truth, something that he'd never done with his wife. His wife got the lies, Hetty got the abridged truth, and G got to see everything, even when they shared no words. "If she's looking for the person with whom I share things, then she's in luck. He works in the office and signed his soul to Uncle Sam just like me. What he hasn't done is his grocery shopping. We're going shopping this weekend. If you're giving me a place to sleep, the least I can do is buy some glasses and forks and possibly a pot or two so we can cook. And, if you truly hate the idea of owning anything, I'll take them with me when I find a place to stay, how's that?"

"Mi casa, su casa," G replied with a grin, proof enough the sentiment was shared, really. Chances were no one else, even from the team, would get an open invitation to stay at his house as long as they needed. But, this was Sam, who'd always been there for G. That mission in the Sudan had proved, to G at least, how far G would go for his partner. "You'll need the stuff for your new place, anyway. So, we'll buy what you need to your preference.

"As far as Hetty goes, let's give it a couple days. She'll do her homework, figure out you've moved out and try to talk to me to find out your situation. I can feel her out then when she thinks it's on her terms."

Sam snorted. "You're as bad as she is. There are times you play these games and times when you can just ask the questions. She asked the questions - for hours; we should be able to move on, but sure, have tea, talk about irrelevant things, trying to second guess the other. I'll be out there doing my job."

He looked around the room and chuckled. "G, I'm pretty sure you need stuff for your current place, but as long as you don't mind, we'll start with chairs and a table and possibly a couch." He stared at G for a moment. "How opposed are you to cable? Or would you rather have satellite? Because I'm not missing the playoffs."

"Hetty and I are still feeling each other out again after Romania." G shrugged. He wasn't in a hurry to talk to her about anything personal unless he was sure he wasn't giving away anything. It was going to be awhile before he could trust her completely again. Even longer to trust her with his partner's well-being.

And the idea of not only filling his house with things, but adding a monthly service package on top of that had him trying not to twitch visibly. "How did 'forks and pans' turn into 'cable or satellite'?"

"As you very usefully and logically pointed out, in this market, it might be months before I find something decent, and I'm not missing the playoffs," he said with a grin. "Really, it was your brilliant help that made me realized what we need, which is cable or satellite." Sam clapped G's leg. "We'll get cable, no contract, you can disconnect it the moment I leave, or we'll put it in my name - or you know my alias, and you don't have to have palpitations at the idea. It'll also give us something to do while we wait for steaks that we could be eating at a table."

"Fine." G sighed. "Two lines and we can run it into this room and the guest room you're using." It had once been the master bedroom where Mr. and Mrs. Rostoff slept. There was some evidence Alina had used it when she lived there alone. But, G hadn't wanted to sleep anywhere but the room he'd called his for three months. So, now it was the guest room and, apparently, for the time being it was Sam's room. "Both our aliases on the account, just in case. And not one of those cheap places trying to foist off their fiber optic b.s. on unsuspecting customers who don't know any better."

The things he did for his partner, G thought. Were they really talking about Sam moving in for the next several months, possibly, and buying furniture... _cable_?

...Sam was going to have a room in his house.

"I guess it's a good thing you already have a key," he added, grinning back because it was grin and go with it or panic.

This was going a lot better than he had expected. He had assumed when the reality of living together sunk in, G would rethink it. Not that he wasn't affected. Sam didn't need special training to see that G would be physically shivering if he were alone. The fact G was doing all of this for him was something Sam was not going to forget any time soon.

"Joint names on the bills, got it. Are we opening a joint bank account and getting matching towels?" he asked with a straight face, before frowning. "You do have towels, right? Oh never mind, we'll just go shopping this weekend, and I'll call for cable in the morning, get a TV. We should be settled for Sunday football. If it makes you feel better, we can paint this like my house and you can pretend that you're watching at my house. Maybe it'll stop the twitching."

"Like hell you're painting my house," G barked, though there was no heat in it. "You want television for the game, okay. Changes to floor, walls, or ceilings are off limits, Big Guy."

Their dinner delivery chose that moment to show up and G pushed himself up to go answer the door. "And yes, I have towels," he threw over his shoulder on the way out.

* * *

Sam didn't like to waste time. Even with work keeping them busy, he'd found the time during the past two weeks to get what they needed, or maybe the ones people needed and G looked at with a health dose of scepticism. Keeping busy had helped him forget that only last week they had celebrated Thanksgiving. Sam wasn't home most years, but there was always some special event with his children, and in the end, they were the ones he missed.

He wanted to see them, but things with his soon-to-be ex were strained and he preferred to give her the space she wanted. In the meantime, he was dealing with another space: G's house. In two weeks, he'd gotten furniture, a real bed, chairs and table, a couch with a coffee table. There were also TVs and TV stands, cable boxes, kitchen equipment. Slowly the house was starting to feel like a home.

Sam liked it.

G hated it.

G kept telling himself the things were only temporary. But, he spent half the night jumping at unfamiliar shadows only to remember it was just the damn couch or the new table. The only room that remained untouched was his room that still held just basic necessities: bedroll, bag, clothes, computer, radio.

There was food in his refrigerator. And not just leftover take-out. There were fresh vegetables in there, packages of meat, bread, cheese, milk. He actually had to shift things to get to the beer, or even the bottled water he kept in there for when he didn't want alcohol.

And that didn't even start on the pots and pans, various dishes and utensils that were appearing.

Temporary.

As soon as Sam found a place, the... _stuff_ would disappear.

"What is that?" he asked, holding in his mounting exasperation with the things as he stared at Sam's latest domestic acquisition.

Sam stopped, the contents only partially out of the box, and he slowly turned his head to look at G as if the man had lost his mind, which maybe he had. G was getting jumpier and jumpier for no apparent reason. None of their active cases warranted such increase in tension.

"A toaster?" he ventured, as he finally took it out. "You know that kitchen appliance you use to make toast when your partner doesn't decide to use it for his nightly experiments. You might even want to try it in the morning. It helps- care to guess? No? With making toasts," he finished as he located the toaster next to the toaster oven that was sitting next to the microwave. They were all strictly black and steel and matching.

He fixed them so the edges of all three were aligned and finally turned. "Now, what's the matter? Unless you really have a problem with toasters."

The black and steel looked strangely cold and modern in Mrs. Rostoff's warm wood and white tile kitchen. Taking a breath, G forced himself to relax outwardly and leaned against the doorjamb. "No problem. Just curious."

A petulant portion of his mind made a note to take that toaster apart some night soon. He could move on to the toaster oven after that. Since he did like Sam, he'd leave his microwave untouched.

Of course, the microwave would probably kill him if he tried to take it apart.

Sam raised an eyebrow. "You were curious about a toaster, and yet confused enough that you couldn't recognize it from the picture on the box. I might believe it except for the fact that you've destroyed more than one toaster at my house, and don't you dare do the same. The longer it takes me to turn this place into a home, the less time I have to look for one of my own. Now, back to my question, what's the matter, you've been jumpy. Did something happen?"

"Nothing's the matter." G just couldn't walk around his own home in the dark and actually know where everything was, or rather wasn't, any more. "And I put them back together when I was done."

Turn this house into a home? G wasn't even considering what Sam could possibly mean by that. This was temporary. They were partners, not roommates. Roommates would be a disastrous temptation. It wasn't that he didn't love Sam like family. That was the problem. It was more than that. Living together permanently was a disastrous idea.

"This house is a home, Sam. It didn't need furniture to make it one."

"Millions of years of evolution would disagree with you." Homes weren't homes until they were lived in, and this house felt more impersonal than a hotel room. "But even if you're right, people need furniture to live a comfortable life."

Except G had lived without it for months, years no. Even before, he moved around, fighting any attempt at making him settle. And now, in fourteen days, Sam had changed all of that one piece of furniture at a time.

"You're right; it doesn't," Sam said after a moment. "I'm sorry. This is your house and as crazy as it is, if you want to live without furniture you should. We can put this stuff in storage. But we're keeping the couch and TV. Even you watch the games."

"No." G sighed, starting to feel guilty for bitching, even obliquely. "It's here now and there's no point in moving it around more than we have to move it. It's only a few months."

He looked around and didn't recognize the place as the one he'd grown up in. Blinking, G realized that was the biggest problem. The one tangible part of his past he had was this house. He liked looking at the empty rooms and remembering what they looked like twenty-some years ago. Now, he couldn't see the past for the present and with everything he'd been through the past summer, he was grabbing onto things like a small child.

"It's okay. Leave it. Really." He rubbed absently at the back of his neck. "Get what you need. There's no reason you should be miserable. This is supposed to make things easier on you."

"Why? Why is it supposed to make it easier, G?" Sam asked. "It was my marriage and I'm the one that fucked up. This is your house and you should be comfortable here. You offered me a place to stay and I've taken over, and-"

He stopped mid-sentence and turned around, looking outside the window. "We can't do this, G. We tried after you were burned by Keelson, and the tension got to be too much, so much that Hetty got you this house. Now we're doing it again, but there's no reason this time. She's not going to let me see them, imagine if she'll let me take them anywhere. I can get into something temporary until I find a permanent place. Just a few days and I'll be out of your hair. Furniture included."

"Hetty arranged the sale of this house so I'd stop sleeping on the couch at the office and she wouldn't have to watch me twitching like a dog anymore."

"Hetty got you the house because she was afraid that we were going to kill each other, or that I would kill you," he said with a tiny smile. "I don't want the opposite situation to happen now."

Coming all the way into the kitchen, G stood behind Sam and leaned over the counter to get the other man's focus. "You want to know why? Because I need to know you're okay. Because we share the same greatest fear. You remember what you said after we found that missing girl buried alive last year? Mostly because you never asked why I was in Sudan to begin with and two weeks and change isn't enough to make me forget that reason yet. You're the closest thing I have to family other than Gibbs, Sam. You put your job on the line to follow me to Romania to save Hetty. The least I can do is put you up for a while now. Help you find a way to stay in your kids' lives. And, we're going to find a way. You're their father and there's no reason for you not to be allowed to see them when you can. None."

Sam felt the heat from G's body when his partner stepped closer. He knew what G was doing. They spoke with gestures as much as words. G was offering support while making sure that he paid attention, but there was more than that. Sam turned to face G. "My worst fear is losing my partner. Still is." He didn't know what that said of him, considering that he was losing his family. "Why were you there?"

There was a slight hesitation, so small only someone like Sam, who knew him well would even catch it, before G answered. "Four. Know what that number is? That's how many times in the last ten and a half, eleven months I've thought that fear was coming true. Not just _holy fuck, that was close_ ; but seriously thinking I was seeing my partner's last moments. Four times, Sam."

Moving back a little now that he had Sam's attention, G forced himself to keep a reign on that fear that had gripped him from the moment he'd gotten that CIA report saying a third body had been found. "First time, I took time off to investigate a message left at my sister's grave and my partner gets sent undercover at a federal prison. I don't even know the op's going down until I get a call after someone's already dead."

He didn't tick them off on his fingers, but G felt like he could have, easily. "Next, my partner takes a shotgun hit point blank to the chest and the only thing keeping him breathing is an inch or so of Kevlar.

"After that his cover from the prison is blown and he's lured into a trap in the middle of nowhere halfway round the world and the only back-up I have to get him out of it is the wayward operational psychologist turned operative."

G stopped and took a steadying breath, eyes never leaving Sam's. "And then, my partner spends a year with a CIA taskforce that has a leak. Every member of that taskforce ends up dead. Only the last body is so unrecognizable they can only ID him based on height, weight, and skin color. For the first time, I'm glad you took that bullet to the leg years ago because burnt to a crisp, Michael Saleh looks an awful lot like Sam Hanna."

Sam was about to say that G was overreacting and he'd never been in any serious danger, but then G started listing everything that had happened and his perception changed, seeing it for the first time from G's point of view. "You missed one. The Winslow case." That had been the one time when he thought that he was going to die. Every other time, he either didn't have the time to worry about it or trusted G to come to the rescue.

"I was getting jealous. You getting hurt every other mission and I was fine. People would start thinking I wasn't doing my job right if my partner was always getting hurt. I had to even out the situation," he said with a smirk. "It was time you did some of the work."

G picked up a dish towel -- there were dish towels? -- and threw it at Sam's head. He was trying not to smirk back, a part of him still pissed at Sam for not letting them know he was okay. But, it wasn't easy. "Identifying your body," he said bluntly. "I was identifying a body everyone thought was you, you cocky bastard. Do you even remember what you said when I called you on not checking in?

"And no, I didn't forget the Winslow case. Guns pointed at our heads is just another day in the office, especially when I'm outside the building disobeying direct orders to hold my position." G had gotten there, would have gotten there any way possible. Hunter was stuck at ops with even Nell commenting on the disaster the op had fallen into. It was no worse than when G had infiltrated the assassination team last fall to protect the Chechen Black Widow. Sudan was worlds different and Sam had to know that.

Sam grabbed the towel, chuckling. "See? You couldn't do that without buying the towels." He looked at G for a moment and then made a face. "'Hi, Mom, I'm okay." A little shrug. "Things got a little hot; I couldn't take any chances. You know I still love you, right?" he said, repeating word by word what he'd told G back in Sudan, using the same tone as well.

"Sudan didn't feel bad," he admitted after a moment. "I was too wrapped up in Jada and my marriage and I knew I was fine. Winslow, that's when I thought you wouldn't get there on time." He fixed the towel, folding it over the handle of the oven, before turning to stare at G. "I'm sorry. I knew I was okay, and I knew you'd know that. I didn't know about Michael's body. If I had, I would have contacted you. I'd never do that to you." He would do it to his wife, or Jada, or even Hetty, but not to G. He didn't know what that said about him, or about his relationship with G.

"You'd better still love me," G grumbled without heat. As soon as he'd found Sam with his mark's sister -- and wasn't that an amusing little parallel? -- he'd known why Sam hadn't checked in. But, he couldn't help resenting Jada a little for it. Even if his marriage hadn't been ending, it was never going to be Sam's wife called in to make that kind of ID.

"Yeah, okay," he said finally. "But, maybe now you can understand why I was a little eager to get you out of there?" And he'd almost lost Sam again before they finally made it. G still wasn't sure it had been a good idea to involve Jada to the extent they had, to ask her to spring Sam that way, to bring her back. He'd just wanted to get Sam out and safe. Nothing else had mattered.

They'd have deal with any fallout from that as it came.

He knew he'd been forgiven from G's tone. "I always love you," he answered with a grin, "and you love me too, because you're letting me have furniture," he teased, going back to their original topic. "I'll stop, okay? No more stuff and I'll put some things away."

Sam nodded. "I understand how you feel G, without the maybe because I'd feel the same in your place." He gestured toward the other room. "Go find us a game and I'll make something to eat. I'll even use paper plates and plastic forks so it'll feel familiar," he said with a wink. "Just another Sunday watching a game."

* * *

The day Hetty finally cornered him about Sam, G was in wardrobe, getting ready for one of the quick one-off sort of undercover assignments that made up their usual work. "Mr. Hanna seems to be getting more sleep these days than the last time the two of you shared living quarters."

Even on the other side of the curtain and with his shirt halfway over his head -- wait, was this his henley? or had he grabbed one of Sam's by mistake? -- G could hear twelve different nuances to her tone of voice from amused to curious to concerned and several in-between.

"He knows what to expect this time," he replied, pulling the shirt the rest of the way off and taking the black silk button down that magically appeared around the edge of the curtain.

"Does he?" Definitely no mistaking that note of skepticism.

"He thinks you're disappointed in him, you know." G buttoned up the shirt, taking a moment to loop the matching black tie over his head before reaching for the black slacks he was to wear with it.

"Should I be?" came the mild response.

"Hetty," G warned. "No games. Not with Sam. He doesn't work on the same level you and I do, where words are flexible and easy to hide behind. He's going to take you at whatever words you give him. And, this wasn't an easy decision for him to make. I'm not saying you have to tell him you approve, but he doesn't need your disapproval, either."

"Mr. Callen-"

"He never shared anything classified with his wife, Hetty." Finished with both pants and tie, G grabbed the jacket that completed the look and pulled the curtain aside to meet Hetty's indiscernible expression with firmness. "Right or wrong, there's no breach of security. She knows nothing. You can stop with the guarded looks and let his personal life resolve as it will."

"Indeed." Hetty smiled very faintly, that eerily smile that implied she knew more than you did and she'd just conveyed all she knew in a single word he was too clueless to catch the hidden meanings of. "Indeed," she repeated before eyeing him critically. "Button cams. And you'll need something other than that pistol to get you past the first security checkpoint."

Just like that she'd dismissed the conversation, returning them to the job at hand and leaving G wondering exactly what had just happened.

* * *

The past month had been a strange one. Since moving in with G, they were practically inseparable. They lived together; they went to work together; they came home together; they went out for dinner together; and Sam had also gotten G to go shopping together. There were still moments when their tempers flared, but those moments were rare and they could usually defuse them with a beer, a joke, and some TV. It was like a marriage, except better.

Sam almost said that to his ex during their meeting that evening, but stopped before he could get in trouble. Instead he had spend an hour having an almost civil discussion with his ex while having dinner, before returning home alone for the first time since moving in.

"Honey, I'm home," he joked as he went inside and locked the door. "Beer first." He took his jacket off and put it in his bedroom before stopping in the kitchen and then back to the living room with a beer in his hand. "The good news is that we might get this done without lawyers or giving Hetty a heart attack over what might be disclosed if they started to go through my finances. The bad news, she's taking the kids back East over Christmas break." He didn't add that he'd agreed with everything she'd asked for to avoid getting lawyers. It wasn't like he wanted to take the house away from her or the children.

"You won't get to see them at all for Christmas?" Stretched out on the couch, G's eyes narrowed with concern as he looked up from his reading to gauge Sam's mood at that. Pulling his legs up, he made room for Sam to join him. He didn't understand how people could do this, keep kids away from parents that genuinely loved and cared for them. The marriage may have fallen apart, but Sam hadn't stopped loving his kids just because he wasn't in love with their mother.

"How much did you give in?" he asked because he knew his partner too well to believe the good news hadn't come with a price.

Sam stopped, looking at G. It wasn't the question that had caused the reaction, however, but the fact G looked so comfortable on a couch in his house. Maybe Sam would just leave it behind when he left. "She said I can have them the weekend of the 7th," he said, finally answering the question. "They are leaving the Friday before Christmas and coming back the 2nd."

He sat down. "They'll have gifts until January; that's all." Sam shrugged. "I gave her what was right, G. No more and no less. Besides, we've been married more than ten years. She gets half anyway." He'd just given her more than that because he didn't need it. As long as he got his car and safe, the uniform and clothes, he'd be fine. "She agreed to reasonable visitations, so it's more flexible. Better than a set schedule."

"I didn't mean material things," G said dryly. But, he nodded. If she'd tried to block Sam from seeing the kids, then 'Uncle Callen' would have something to say. As long as she didn't, it was still between her and Sam.

"You're bringing them here." It wasn't really a question. G would never tell Sam he couldn't have his kids in the house and it wasn't like Sam had anywhere else to take them. G could make himself scarce for a weekend, give his partner some uninterrupted time together with them. "I guess they'd probably like a tree if they're still getting gifts. When they cleaned out the house after Alina was killed, they left hers behind in the garage if you want to set it up for them."

"Nah, it'll be too far after Christmas. We don't need the tree," he said. "We'll just tell them that we kept them safe after Santa dropped them off." He didn't need to put up a tree that neither he nor G wanted or cared about. "They can stay in my room and I'll take the couch. Hopefully there won't be any emergencies and we can take them out during the day."

Sam took a swig, taking a moment to think about the discussion with his ex. When he put the bottle down, he looked at G again. "There wasn't much to give, G. The more we talked, the more I realized there was nothing left between us. The man she thinks she knows isn't me, but another alias. The kids- She knows how crazy my job is, even if she doesn't know what I do. I guess she realized that I'll never have them as much as she does even if I wanted to take them from her, which I don't, and she agrees I should spend time with them, and that's all that matters."

The contemplative tone turned into a smirk. "I guess you're stuck with me for the holidays."

"Guess Santa won't be giving me an empty house for Christmas," G teased. He was actually kind of getting used to having Sam underfoot around the house, furniture and all. Under other circumstances, he might have even welcomed it more.

Setting his book aside, he sat up a little more and looped his arms loosely around his knees. He wanted to say something comforting about Sam's marriage. But, he didn't have any words for that. He hated that Sam was going through this and at the same time he was glad Sam was getting out of something that hadn't been working the way it should for a long time. There was no way to express any of that graciously, however, so G did as he always did and focused on practicalities he could control or fix.

"You know, Alina's old room is still empty if you want to set that up for them. It looks like we weren't wrong about the part where it takes months to find a place and they should have a space here for when they come over. They need to feel like there's space for them in your life now." And G knew all about the opposite feeling. They might joke about the 'Uncle Callen' thing, but G cared about those kids in his own way.

Sam's lip quivered, while he tried not to laugh. "First you offer me a place to stay, then the tree, now we're setting up the kids' room. I think Santa is giving you more than guests. It keeps going like this, he'll give you a nervous breakdown. " It would be much easier if they had their own room; it would give them more stability, which they'd need right now. But on the other hand, he felt like he was taking over G's life, stepping over an imaginary line that shouldn't be crossed. "Are you sure?"

"Wouldn't offer if I wasn't." G shrugged. "It'll be good for the kids." And, maybe it felt like keeping alive the spirit the Rostoffs had put into the house, making sure kids that needed the refuge it could give had access to it.

"Thank you." Sam reached out, arm stretched for what was supposed to be a fist bump, but his fingers ended up brushing against G's hand. While they were always close, almost touching, they rarely did touch. It was another one of those invisible barriers they had, nothing they discussed, just things that they did, another barrier he had crossed.

He stared into G's eyes, almost afraid to see what was there. "You're going over and above the line of duty. I... You don't know how much it means to me."

If it had just been the accidental touch, it could have been ignored. But, Sam's eyes were on his and G went very still, not tense, just...waiting.

"Not duty. I told you before. You're the closest thing I have to family, Sam. I couldn't do less and still look at myself in the mirror comfortably. You'd do the same for me. You have done the same for me." He smiled, a small smile, but a smile that wasn't a smirk. The stillness broke, then, and he reached around his bent up knees to grasp Sam's shoulder briefly. "I've got your back, in the field or out of it."

Something about the answer rubbed Sam the wrong way. "You _are_ family. You're more than family, G." The answer was out of his mouth before he could think. Maybe, he'd wanted to say it for a long time because that had been the constant in the past few weeks. He'd used their relationship to compare his marriage to; he considered what they shared the important part of his life. He'd never followed his thoughts to the logical conclusion, but he still knew the real meaning behind his words.

"More than family," G repeated with a nod. Taking a deep breath, he let it out slowly. The time for possibilities hadn't quite found them...yet. It was enough to know it was there. Caution didn't feel so much like futility.

Even more slowly than he'd exhaled, G reached forward again until he could rest two fingers hesitantly on Sam's arm. "You're in the middle of a divorce. You need to be there for your kids right now." The thought there could be other changes in the future, once that was resolved, hung unspoken between them. "I'll be here for you."

"That's all I need." With G in his corner, he could deal with the rest. First thing this divorce and then- He stopped that line of thought. He wouldn't think about that until everything else was in order.

* * *

The days leading up to Christmas saw them busy with a case, finishing late on Christmas Eve. Everyone was eager to go home, although they made time to celebrate at the office. The next day was going to be just another day off, or at least Marty thought so until he had received an invitation to Callen's.

It was common knowledge Sam was spending time there, but no one knew why (and no one was brave enough to ask). Of course that meant both Callen and Hetty knew, but Marty wasn't asking them either. Maybe he could figure it out during this dinner.

Dinner was just a word. Marty had expected some take-out and beer. He had not expected a real meal. More than that, he hadn't expected furniture or a TV after everyone had warned him that Callen lived with just a chair. He'd have to get even with Kensi for lying to him. Just as soon as his brain could deal with what he was seeing.

"Is he really wearing an apron?" he asked, almost in a whisper because apron or not, this was Sam and he could kill you while he cooked and still make a perfect dinner.

"Why don't you tug on it and find out?" Callen's face was absolutely neutral as he made the suggestion. But, his eyes were watching the younger man avidly.

Marty laughed, before stopping abruptly and turning to watch Callen. "Are you trying to get me killed? Is this why you invited me? Because I can leave now. I like my face to remain unblemished, which isn't going to happen if he punches me."

He looked at Sam again, frowning. "Why is he doing this?" Maybe he should wait and let them taste the food first, just in case it was poisoned, or horrible, or- "Why isn't he with his family?"

"I never told you to do anything that would get you punched." Chuckling, Callen returned that look with an innocent one of his own. "I merely asked why you didn't."

He shrugged. "His family was taking a trip for the holiday, but we had a time sensitive case." It wouldn't be the first time work had interfered with plans and the last thing Sam needed was the team digging into his private life. When Sam was ready, he'd tell them. "Can't get Lakers' tickets this short notice, so he sees we don't starve." He raised his voice a little to catch Sam's ear. "Right, mom?"

"I'd have taught you to cook if I were your mother," Sam answered with a snort. "Self-sufficient is the word you're looking for." He took ad apron off and tossed it in Marty's direction. "And yes, it's an apron, and you aren't as quiet as you think."

Marty caught the apron and looked between the two. He had definitely stepped into the twilight zone, and not the Edward and Bella twilight either. "You two are weird," he finally said. "You talk about me and Kensi, but you're practically married. No, that would mean that you wouldn't spend time together. I don't know what you are, other than weird."

"We don't talk about you and Kensi." Callen pointed out. "You do plenty of that for us. Need I remind you that neither Sam nor I were sharing fantasies of Kensi in water aerobics, while she was in heels, no less. And you have yet to convince me that wasn't you on the radio."

"That has _nothing_ to do with Kensi!" Marty answered. "She's a woman, she's hot, I think bikini. It's not personal."

Sam snorted. "You're so lucky she's not in Hawaii and not here."

"But-" He shook his head because they clearly did not understand. "She's a woman," he repeated under his breath. "Better than you two playing house."

"Two words." Callen held up two fingers, as well. "Talk Radio. That's more than perving on the mental image of her in a bikini."

"It wasn't _me_." Now, he was starting to sound like a four year old, something he seemed to do a lot when he was around Callen and Sam. He was always on the defensive even when there was no reason to be.

"G is pretty good at recognizing people," Sam said, casually. "You can tell us. Really. It's not like we don't know already."

"More importantly, we're not inclined to tell Kensi, either."

"Because it wasn't me," Marty repeated. He could see the matching smirks on the other two, which could mean they didn't believe him or they'd tell Kensi. Either way, it was a losing battle. "I don't know why I put up with you."

Sam snorted. "We're the ones that put up with you. I'm even making you dinner-"

"Which is really weird," Marty added.

"The least you can do is not make stupid comments about aprons and then don't expect payback," Sam finished as if Marty hadn't interrupted. "Now, who wants something to drink while we wait for dinner?"

"Drinks, yes, good idea. Drinks are great." Anything that kept them from discussing Kensi was a very good idea, and besides, he had a feeling that he'd need plenty of alcohol to make it through Christmas with Sam and Callen.

* * *

The weekend with the children seemed to fly by. There were gifts to open, places to go. Sam knew G was trying to make himself scarce, but no adult, not even a SEAL, could brave Chuck E Cheese without his partner. And, even with his partner, it was not something Sam wanted to repeat any time soon, at least until his daughter asked if he and Uncle Callen could take them to Disneyland soon.

As they parked in front of his house, Sam would have gone to Disneyland instead of dropping them off. Still he watched as both of them hugged G tight and then he walked them to the door. He hugged them, talked to his ex, and then he was back in the car. It was a sign of where his attention had been all day that G was the one driving tonight.

Sam looked out the window as they passed the slower cars. "Lawyer submitted the divorce papers on Friday. She got the call after we picked up the kids. Now we have to wait those six months and then it's final."

G took his eyes off the road long enough to cast a glance toward Sam. He wasn't sure what he could, or _should_ say. Papers were filed. The separation would be permanent. Sam would be free to go his way. Those possibilities could move closer to reality.

And, G had just spent the weekend, despite his best efforts to stay out of their way, with Sam and his kids. He had only wanted to kill three mothers at the pizza parlor, which seemed pretty good to him considering the insanity that was Chuck E Cheese. If he'd been shocked out how tightly he was hugged by the kids before they got out of the car, almost as tightly as they'd hugged their father, it was only because he hadn't really thought...well, he hadn't really thought about it at all, to be honest.

"You okay?" he asked, finally, focusing on how Sam was dealing and not his own stray thoughts.

"Yeah, I'm all right," Sam answered. "I'd like to have the kids around more, but it's impossible, not with work and school, and I don't want to disrupt their lives. They have friends and activities." He turned his head to look at G. "The divorce? I'd like it if it could go faster, but short of renting a room in Vegas and getting it done there, we need to wait the six months."

He didn't like waiting when he knew it was inevitable. The law had a waiting time in case people decided to get back together, something that was not going to happen. "How about you? It's been a crowded weekend? Sorry you asked me to move in yet?"

"Trying to make me sorry?" G shook his head. "Gotta work a lot harder than that."

Falling silent, he switched lanes and found the back way onto Mulholland. Since Sam had moved in, G hadn't taken as many late night drives as he used to. He didn't want to disturb Sam when he was sleeping and G had learned how lightly Sam could sleep when he'd crashed with his family two summers earlier. Still, he missed just driving.

"I like your kids, Sam. Have since the first day you introduced me to your family. That play place was an experience. But, having your kids around for a couple days isn't going to make me regret letting you stay. Although, you didn't get much time alone with them. I told you, I would have been fine on my own so you could have time the three of you."

Sam chuckled. "I bet you never thought you'd end up in a place like that. I told you it's scary." Kids seemed to come out of nowhere, some so little that Sam feared that he wouldn't even see them and step on them. "You've seen them grow up; you are family. This was better for them than having me alone. I'm not going to turn into one of those fathers that refuses to let his kids see other people during his visitation time. They need to do things with me, but they don't need me to suffocate them, and they like Uncle Callen, especially if he drives them to Disneyland," he finished, chuckling.

"Not refusing, but you should have some time together without Uncle Callen butting in." G shuddered at the thought of taking them to Disneyland. An adult hiding in the crowd was one thing. He didn't mind Disneyland so much then. But, trying to keep track of two energetic kids and the millions of potential kidnappers and assorted other dangers around them? Not the Happiest Place on Earth. "At least it's January and not July. Still got a month or so before the crowds start to descend on the park again."

How did he let himself get talked into these things?

Oh, right, miniature versions of their father's dimples and a _please, Uncle Callen_?

"Uncle Callen isn't butting in. He's also planning a trip to Disneyland like a dangerous op. He might not be saying it, but he's certainly thinking it and they might not know it, but I do. Sometimes an outing is just that, G. You can't afford to be tense all the time. Kids will pick it up." Not that he didn't worry, but he'd learned to relax at home, or at least he'd learned to fake it so well that no one ever suspected what he did for work.

"Does it make a difference if I want you there? I know there are two of us keeping track of them. It's when we're not there that I worry," he admitted. "But don't worry, there will be plenty of games and parties and other stuff that means splitting up and doing different things. I'll even let you pick whether you prefer soccer games or baseball."

"Living is a dangerous op some days," G countered with a snort. "I just don't want to get in the way of your time with them. If you or they want me there, of course, I'll be there." He seemed to be physically incapable of denying anything to someone of Hanna-blood.

"And I told you that you aren't getting in the way." He probably shouldn't feel so happy about a simple statement, but it was good to hear G say that he'd be there for something other than work, for someone as important as his children. "Right, so Disneyland. Time for that resident's pass, Uncle Callen, because we like to go there a lot." He clapped G's arm. "Thanks."

"For a guy that goes to the park so much, you think I'd settle for the So Cal passes?" G laughed, eyeing his partner with a smirk. "Premium pass has no blackout dates, better discounts on food and merchandise, plus free parking. And you're driving. There's no way I'm taking this baby to that parking structure." If he'd still had the Mercedes, then maybe. But, G had traded up again.

"And you owe me...but, you're welcome."

"I don't go to the park so much because I'm working," he answered, chuckling, "and I was starting you small. But, since you know already, we can hit Universal after Disneyland." He snorted. "As if I complain about driving. Ever." He looked outside again, smiling. "Just drive. We need some time to relax before it's back to work."

* * *

As it turned out, Disneyland wasn't as terrifying as G anticipated. Oh, trying to keep track of two hyper kids and still have an eye out for danger -- because there was really no way G could _not_ pay attention in those crowds -- was exactly as bad as he'd thought it would be. But, spending the day with Sam and the kids had been, dare he think it, _nice_.

Now, the kids were exhausted; it had taken both Sam and G to carry their sleepy little bodies into the house. Since it was Saturday, they could let the kids sleep in. Sam had them for the weekend again and it would give him some quiet time with them the next day before they had to go back to their mom.

Leaving Sam alone to get them settled into bed, G did his usual security sweep of the house and yard. When nothing unusual was found, he went back in the house. Sam was still with the kids, talking softly to his daughter, saying goodnight. G remained quiet, just watching watching from the doorway, unaware of the small smile on his own lips.

Sam made sure that they were settled for the night, not that it was taking long. They were too tired to protest or look for reasons to stay up. It only took a few minutes and then he was leaving their bedroom. When he stood up, he was surprised to see G standing there. More shocking was the smile on his face.

He moved past G as he closed the door and they were standing in the dark hallway, lights filtering from the living room. Sam's eyes were on his partner, so many thoughts going through his head. They had been spending so much time together, more than he ever had with any other person and it made him happy. That happiness increased when he saw the smile on G's face. "I guess it wasn't so terrible," he said with a matching smile.

Using the doorjamb like a pivot, G turned as Sam closed the door. Leaning back against the wall now, arms crossed, he watched Sam in the semi-darkness. His partner was little more than a shadow outlined by the lights from the other room, but G didn't need to see him to know what he looked like or the expression on his face.

"I guess it wasn't," he agreed lazily. "Although I still think your girl's going to be the next Kensi with the way she was swinging that lightsaber around the Jedi Academy."

"Hopefully, Daddy and Uncle Callen can give her enough of a normal life that she won't be doing what we do." He loved his job, but it isolated you, made it difficult to have a family, and it would be even harder for a woman. "I don't want her getting old and alone, playing games with the people that work for her."

"I'm sure her mother will help you more on that front." Sam's wife actually knew what normal was, as opposed to G who just faked it when it was necessary. "But, I think you're safe enough. They broke the mold with Hetty. Even Kens won't be turning into her...Mace maybe."

"They might not turn into Hetty, but it doesn't stop Kensi from being alone." They all had their walls, and very few people managed to get through them. "Not everyone is lucky enough to find the perfect partner. We are as close to perfect as it gets."

"Perfect, huh?" The smirk felt wrong, soft almost. But G dismissed it as being tired after the busy day.

"Is it the job that makes us alone, or the fact we're alone that draws us to the job," he mused, thinking that some of what they'd learned about Kensi's past might have more to do with it than the job...like himself. Being alone was less about the job and more about a lack of trust in his own ability to be part of normal human society.

"Both. We're attracted to the job because we're alone and the longer we are on the job, the less we can open up to people. I tried to have the normal life; I really did, but we both know how well that went," he said. "I don't think you can do this job for long and be able to trust people. I cared about my wife and I never thought that she'd willingly betray me, but I still didn't trust her to keep things secret."

His eyes never left G, trying to figure out if they were on the same page. There were moments when he thought they were, when something was about to happen, and then the moment passed and they were back to being partners and nothing more. Normally, he'd speak up, but if he was wrong, he could ruin their partnership forever. The problem was that G was too good at evading things he didn't want to discuss. "Do you think we'll ever be able to find someone?"

G held his partner's gaze, unwavering, as he considered his reply. Caution, hiding, they came too naturally to him, especially when presented with the potential for things he'd wished for and believed he'd never have. Sam could have just described G perfectly...had, actually. But, if G opened up to anyone, no matter how rare it was, he did so to Sam.

And yet, he couldn't help feeling hesitant about taking this conversation from word games to straight talk. It was too important to get wrong.

"You tell me," he said finally. "You're the one who sees the glass as half-full, while to me it's still half-empty. Do you think you'll ever find a woman you can trust?"

"A woman?" He didn't have to think about that one. He shook his head. "No, it's never going to happen. I've gone down that road once and I know it doesn't work. It can't work no matter how much you want to. But, there is someone I'd trust, someone I do trust, the one person who has my back and I trust him with what I hold dearest: my children." Sam didn't like the word games, not unless they were absolutely necessary. He liked to banter, but he didn't like to mess with people's heads and this had gone far enough. "Am I making an ass of myself? Because if I misread things, we can go watch some TV and declare this temporary insanity due to exposure to sun and screaming kids."

"No," G said quietly. "You're not making an ass of yourself." They'd gone into plain speaking, or as plain as G could ever manage, and he wasn't sure if he could do this, be this open. But, Sam was right there and he was asking for reassurances only G could give him.

"You're not making an ass of yourself." Using his shoulder, G pushed away from the wall and moved to within a couple steps of where Sam stood. "And, you're not misreading things. Book's been written for a long time, even if there were no plans to ever take it off the shelf. But, you need to finish with the prequel before we can start writing a new end to the story."

"The prequel is done, G. There's nothing left there to say. The paperwork-" Sam shrugged. "State wants to make sure we don't change our minds because there are children involved, but I'm not changing my mind. I knew in Sudan that it was over. This is a new prologue, but if you want to wait until all legalities are dealt with, then it's fine, but you should keep something in mind." He closed the gap between them, his fingers curled around the back of G's head, while he dipped his head for a kiss.

Hard and fast, that was how they lived, but this was the opposite. Sam took his time, lips teasing G's, daring to open up and seek more as G responded. His free hand went to G's hip, their bodies moving closer, fitting against each other with familiarity. Their story was being written as they spoke - or kissed, in this instance - but Sam respected G's opinion too much to continue down this story line, and he stepped back. "It'll be a long six months." He didn't hide his feelings, they were right there in the intense look and tone.

Six months? G had a feeling it was going to be a long _night_ after that kiss. The air even felt colder as Sam stepped away. But, there was no question possibilities were now becoming a little more than just possible.

"Sam, I..." Sighing, G rubbed the back of his neck. "I need time, too. When I said a long time, I meant a long time...a long time during which I made myself accept this was never going to be a possibility. Now my, I thought, straight and married partner I've felt like this about for a while is no longer married and apparently not straight and he wants me? It's a lot more than furniture and cable. I just need time. I need to know _I'm_ not going to run away when it gets too much. I'll do a lot of things to a lot of people. But, not that, not to you and not to your kids." He smirked slightly, eyes locked on Sam's. "Not six months...I don't know. Maybe that. Maybe not. But, time."

"And you call yourself an agent? What straight man makes so many jokes about his sexuality?" Sam asked with a grin because it was easier to defuse the situation than to corner G into anything. That would be the best way to ruin everything. "You aren't the only one who's been thinking about this for a while, but I couldn't think about it while married." Sam took another few steps back because being close was too tempting. "It seems that once again, we were thinking along similar lines. I couldn't say anything while I was married, while it couldn't be something serious."

Sam took a deep breath. "So time. I think we should use that cable and furniture. I DVRed the playoff games. 49ers versus the Saints and the Broncos versus Patriots, both good games. Get that beer and I'll get the first game going."

* * *

"Uncle Callen?"

"It's okay; you can come in." G turned his head as the door to his room was pushed open, surprised to see Sam's daughter peek around the edge of it. Leaning up onto one elbow, he patted the edge of the bedroll that was in the light, an open invitation that was taken immediately. All he saw was flying pigtails before a small body collided with his in the dark, face buried against his shoulder. "Bad dream?" Bouncing pigtails was his response.

Strangely, having one or the other of the kids find him in the middle of the night wasn't odd. When he'd stayed at Sam's in the past, once the kids had come to trust him, if they couldn't sleep they knew Uncle Callen was up and they didn't have to wake up Mommy or Daddy every time. G would let them sit with him on the couch until they fell asleep again and then carry them back to their rooms, never sure if Sam was aware or not. But, he kept the kids' secrets as much as he kept their father's when it didn't seem like something that would put them in danger to keep.

This was the first time it had happened since Sam had moved in with him, though. Had he thought, G would have expected it sooner, under the circumstances.

"Wanna tell me about it?"

Vigorous shaking of the pigtails.

"Want to loosen up and give Uncle Callen air enough to breathe?"

That drew a soft giggle, but she let go the death grip she had on his neck and sat back on the bedroll. "How come you don't share the room with Daddy?"

G blinked, caught off-guard by the innocent question. Suddenly he wished this was a night she'd gone to Daddy. Explaining why he and Sam would or wouldn't share a room wasn't something G thought he was up to...possibly ever. And, surely Sam would kill him for a wrong response. "Well, why do you think your daddy and I should share a room?"

"I dunno. Mommy and Daddy did."

Oh, man. Sam definitely needed to be the one fielding this.

"Your mommy was married to your daddy. That was why they shared a room."

"Aren't you and Daddy married now?"

G swallowed hard. "Why do you think that?"

"Because Daddy lives here and Mommy always says good girls and boys don't live with someone they're not married too."

"She does, does she?"

"Uh-huh."

"Well, sometimes it's okay for very grown up friends to live together. And, when your daddy had to move out of your mommy's house, he needed somewhere to stay. So, he moved in here with me until he can find his own house." Not that G hadn't spent the three weeks since Sam had kissed him in the hallway thinking about just that question -- why wasn't he sharing Sam's bed already? But, that was not what he wanted to think about with an eight-year-old looking up at him so earnestly.

"If Daddy finds a new house, does that mean you're going to go away?" She threw her arms around his waist this time and G wondered when he'd gotten so used to the hugs, even given the amount of time he'd spent at Sam's in the past.

"Your daddy and I are always going to be friends. So, I'll always be around. But, even if we weren't, you and I could still be friends, right? And then I wouldn't have to go away."

"Okay." She grew so quiet and still that for a moment, G thought she'd fallen asleep. Until... "So, you're not married to Daddy?"

"No, I'm not married to Daddy." Probably shouldn't ask, but someone had to find out what the kids thought and G had apparently been nominated. And he really wasn't going to ask her what she thought it meant to be married other than to live in the same house and share a room. "Do you want me to be?"

"Yeah, 'cause then I could have my own room here, too, and not have to share with my _brother_."

G couldn't help laughing at that pronouncement. "I'll tell you what, if your daddy and I do get married, you'll be the first to know. Deal?"

"Deal!" Another nod of her head sent those pigtails bouncing again.

"Okay, you think you're ready to sleep now?"

"Uh-huh."

"You want to stay here or go back with your brother?"

"I'll go back."

"Good girl."

"Night, Uncle Callen!"

"Goodnight."

When she'd closed the door again, G lay back with a sigh. Sleep was going to be a long time coming.

* * *

"So, your daughter thinks we should be married and sharing a room." Three days later, they were stuck on a stakeout that had gone nowhere for the last two hours. G was bored already, as evidenced from the six suckers he'd consumed so far. Springing this subject on Sam would at least be entertaining.

Sam spit the coffee back into his cup, but not before choking on some of it. The glare was immediate because there was no doubt that G had timed that for maximum reaction. "I'm getting you for this; I hope you know that," he snapped out. "And you owe me coffee now."

He opened the door and put the cup down on the asphalt before closing the door again. "Did you explain to her that we can't because you refuse to sleep on furniture and I refuse to sleep on the floor?" he said after a moment, while already thinking about the next time they'd stay over and the little discussion that he would have to have with her before his ex heard about something that wasn't true.

At least not yet.

G met that glare with a huge grin as he unwrapped another sucker and tucked it into his cheek. But, he popped it out of his mouth again to speak. "I may be confused, abnormal, and mentally fucked," he said dryly. "But, I'm not masochistic. I tell her that and the next thing I know it's two in the morning and I'm trying to explain to an eight-year-old the merits of sleeping in one or the other together. I'll leave that conversation to you."

Taking a moment's pause, he sucked on the candy again. "I told her we weren't sharing a room because we're not married. She thinks we should get married so she doesn't have to share a room with her brother when they stay over." The memory of that statement still drew an amused chuckle from G, though he grew more serious right after. "I was trying not to tell her anything that would raise the wrong questions."

Sam snorted. "So you're a coward _and_ you know that you can't explain it because there's no rational reason why the floor would be more comfortable than the bed, alone or together. Now, that's proof that you're a masochist. You could be sleeping in a perfectly good bed, but instead you're on the floor and even a kid would know that."

He stared as G sucked on the lollipop and, for the first time in countless stakeouts, he was picturing something very different. It took some concentration to return to the important part of their discussion. "If there's one person who's never going to say the wrong thing, it's you. As long as you don't suggest moving to a four bedroom house, then we're good." He smirked. "It's a little too soon for marriage. I'm not a free man."

"No, the kid understands that if we share a room she gets one of her own," G countered with a laugh. "And people who live together are supposed to be married, so we should be married and sharing a room so she can have one all to herself." It was simple, really, as only a child could make it.

G was staring out the window at the house their mark hadn't left in hours, unaware of his partner's gaze. "Isn't that supposed to be my usual objection?" He chuckled lightly before falling silent, thinking. "Never is possibly asking too much," he said, twirling the candy before sucking on it again. "It's not a cover. It's your kids."

"Right, so we're back to a four bedroom house," he said with a snort. "Or she'll just have to wait until-" He broke off before he could say more. This wasn't a discussion that they should have in the car. "She can wait."

Sam smiled. "Never might be too much, but you will never say anything without thinking about it. And, maybe you won't get it right, but you can't always get it right with kids. I know I can trust you with them. That's all that matters."

G hoped he didn't let Sam or his kids down on that front. Maybe what he'd thought was holding him back about this wasn't really what was. G had a far too intimate knowledge of the disappointments that came as a child when you couldn't trust the adults around you. He couldn't risk jumping and letting those two kids down the way he'd been let down so many times in the past. And, there was no Sam without those kids. It was a package deal G needed to know he could handle.

"Or, I can go back to sleeping on the couch." He turned his head to smirk around the sucker at his partner.

Sam rolled his eyes, or he would have if he did such a thing. "I'd rather explain to my daughter why Uncle Callen and Daddy are not getting married than explain to my wife, while going through a divorce, why my partner has kindly given me his house and he's sleeping on a couch. There's just so much you can justify by saying we were buddies in the Navy. No matter what we decide to do, things need to stay the way they are when the kids are around, at least until the divorce is finalized. Later things can change."

He looked at G. "They are good kids, but they wouldn't understand why this needs to be a secret. They would tell their mother and that might slow down things, especially if she decides that you have something to do with the separation. They could also tell the wrong person, and by that I mean everyone else. We'll have hard enough time keeping this from Hetty. We don't need to rely on children to keep our secret."

"Hadn't really planned on reading them in to this one," G replied with a snort. "Just thought you needed to know the questions had been asked." More than one reason why waiting until the legalities were through seemed the best, if more frustrating, option. "Although, that does leave you with having to find a house, still. Four bedroom or not."

"So we're going with need to know. Good man because they never need to know what we're doing in the bedroom," he said, chuckling, but after a moment he sighed. "For once, you were being optimistic. To find a house I can afford, relatively close to my kids, work, school, and in a good neighborhood is.... Let me put it this way. I asked Eric and Nell to help, looking at listings and requirements, and Eric said a very liberal estimate says it would take 2.3 years. Nell added if we go with a more conservative estimate, I have a better chance of becoming the next Messiah, defeating terrorism, curing AIDS and becoming the next President of the US at the same time, before finding a house I can afford."

He turned to look at G. "She's going to have to share with her brother for a bit longer, because I'm thinking about a two-bedroom apartment. It'll give me time to put money to the side, while supporting them, unless you need extra cash, and I can pay you rent."

G just stared at the other man for several seconds, then pulled the sucker from his mouth with a soft pop before using it as a pointer. "I got a house at the height of the real estate crash with no loan required. I had enough petty cash to buy you a car -- a fixer-upper, granted, but a classic. You've seen how I live. Hetty's description was a long pause and the word 'frugally'. I don't need the cash and you don't need to pay me for watching your back." He cast his partner a glare of his own. "Ever. But, especially not at the expense of supporting your kids."

When he put the candy back in his mouth, he bit down too hard, biting through to the chocolate before he intended. Chewing on the candy shards, he used the time to think. "Ask Hetty. The woman can find anything. And, I might have a few contacts who owe me some favors. We'll find you a place that works." The teasing smirk was back. "Before we lose you to politics, Mr. President."

"And I got a house all paid for, that's not the point. I'd have to pay the rent no matter where I end up living," Sam said with a shrug. "This isn't at their expense, G. It's part of supporting them. They have the house. I need a house. It's very simple."

As if he hadn't thought of Hetty already. "I'd rather not. I like the woman; I trust her on the field. I don't want to be indebted to her. As long as she's doing things for the job, we're fine, but the one time we were skirting the job issue, I was willing to take time off. And, don't go to her either. Directly or indirectly, I'd still owe her, and I get the feeling that payback has high interest rates where she's concerned."

"I don't need your money, Sam, and I don't want it." G pulled a chunk of the chocolate center off the stick and chewed vigorously.

"You're forgetting one thing," he continued, using the half-chewed candy to emphasize his words again. "Hetty owes me. A lot. I'd say a lifetime's worth. Even if she's deluded herself into thinking my house in some way makes up for thirty-seven failed foster homes and thirty-plus years of distant surveillance, plus the last several years lying to my face, it doesn't make up for everything she's done. She kept information about my family from me for years; I can call in some favors for yours to make up for it."

Sam didn't argue about the rent, because there was no point at the moment. Instead he shook his head. "I haven't forgotten, but she owes _you_ , and not me. I understand your logic, but it's not going to work with Hetty. Don't do it, G. It's going to backfire on us. I don't know how; I don't know when, but if you get her involved, we'll pay the price. Let it go, okay? I'd rather live in a two bedroom apartment in Compton than get her involved. " He smirked. "Besides, I'm doing pretty well right now. I even have a baby-sitter that answers questions in the middle of the night. I wouldn't have that any other place."

"And she would be doing me a favor in getting my partner and his furniture out of my empty house, so far as she knew." G wasn't above spinning a few tales, even to Hetty, to see that Sam was taken care of...and his kids were taken care of...and whatever they might or might not have was kept between the two of them in the process. But, he still couldn't deny Sam anything. "Alright. I won't talk to her. I'm still calling in some favors owed from other contacts, though. And you're staying where you are -- rent free -- until you find a place that's good for you and the kids. If you have complaints, you'll have to argue them later. There's our guy."

* * *

A month or so later and Sam was still living with G. He had to admit he hadn't tried too hard. With so many cases, they ended up looking at only a few apartments, which ended up being too small, too expensive, too run-down and too intolerant of children. At the end of the work day, there always seemed to be a reason why they couldn't go. He would not admit that, in part, he had grown comfortable at G's, at least not out loud, but he knew that he needed to start looking in earnest.

Tonight was not the night to start looking though. They had been on a case for the past thirty-six hours, and they had napped when they could. Not that G seemed affected. "You need to sleep like normal people so you can feel crappy like the rest of us," he said, putting the bag in his room and coming back out. "You look too damn rested. Food or sleep?" He stopped in front of G and looked at his partner, who really did look too damn rested, even if he could see the tension of the past two days. "You okay?" he asked, reaching out to- He wasn't sure what he was planning to do until his fingers were brushing against G's cheek.

Eyes locked on Sam's, G nodded slowly. "I'm fine," he said lowly. "You were the one taking the brunt of the fight this time."

G was wired; he was always wired after a big case. It was why they wound up going out for a late meal so often. He needed the outlet for the adrenaline that had built up over the hours they were running to beat the clock. Those were the nights he would take a drive if Sam had to go home. Except Sam was home and his hand against G's face had the strange side effect of holding that adrenaline high at bay.

Unconsciously, G's tongue darted out to lick his lips and he swallowed. "If you're tired, sleep. We can always eat when you wake up."

Sam's eyes were on G and he didn't miss the way G's tongue moved over his lips, leaving them glistening and inviting, just begging for more attention. He could blame fatigue and adrenaline, or he could just admit it was what he wanted. Better yet, he could say nothing and act instead. He leaned closer and his lips met G's tentatively, but the hesitation was short-lived. He framed G's face and kissed him passionately, pouring into one kiss the desire of the past few months.

It almost felt like he was being ripped apart when he finally pulled back. "July is too far away," he said, breathlessly.

G's hands had wrapped around Sam's wrists, pulling them closer as they kissed for what felt like both an eternity and a fraction of a heartbeat. When Sam pulled back, G's hands stayed, held on to that connection while he tried to force his thoughts back into order instead of pleasantly scattered. "Three months. Halfway there."

It was meant as encouragement, but even to G's ears the words fell flat. Why he kept holding out, making them both wait for something they both clearly wanted, G couldn't explain clearly. He just knew it felt important, something he needed them to do.

"Sam..." G shook his head in frustration. The day was too long and his emotions were too mixed up for him to articulate anything clearly.

Sam was hoping there was more, anything, but he couldn't push on this. If it was meant to be, they could wait the extra three months, and Sam knew this wasn't about sex. It still didn't make it easier to stand here, so close, and ignore such intense need to touch and kiss.

He sighed. "I should have known you were a masochist. You sleep on the floor." Slowly he moved back. "Six months and a day for that divorce. Six months and two days, we're taking a vacation, even a day. We can tell Hetty we're going to Vegas to celebrate the divorce. It won't be a complete lie."

"Actually, there are studies that show sleeping on the floor is better for your posture and circulation," G retorted with a soft smile. The smile faded as he echoed his partner's sigh, dropping his arms as Sam moved away. "Vacation," he agreed. "I'm sorry, Sam. I don't... I need to do it this way. I need to do this the right way after I've done it the wrong way so many times before." He tried to bring that smile back. "Besides, I've only just gotten used to walking around the furniture in the dark."

He put his hands on G's shoulders and squeezed them gently. "Stop right there. You don't have to apologize about this. I want you, I want to be with you, but this isn't a one night stand. I'll wait until things are right. There's so much wrong with what we're doing," he said with a snort. "We might as well do one thing right." Everyone talked about him being the honorable one and he did have his code of honor. But G defied everything and Sam would wait as long as necessary for his partner. "Sleep now, food later, sex in three months. It's a good plan." He let go, smiling. "Good night, G."

* * *

Concentrate on work. It had become Sam's mantra. With Granger moving to LA, decade old murders, chemical bombs, trips back and from Hawaii, Nate's visit, it was actually much easier than it should be. There were those odd moments when they stood too close, or when the kids said something completely innocent that showed just how close he and G were, but by in large, the moments were something he could deal with as long as there was work, and terrorists really seemed to like spring.

That balance he had found came to a screeching halt one early June day. "Sam, do you have a moment?" Nell said with a smile on her face and some secret weapon that made her bounce instead of walk, because Sam couldn't understand how else a grown woman could walk like that.

"You know exactly how much time I have," Sam answered with a smile.

Nell leaned closer. "There's no need to discard manners"

Sam laughed. "You've been spending too much time with Hetty. So what can I do for you?"

The smile turned wicked. "It's what I can do for you. I found the perfect house for you, three bedrooms, near your ex, near the school, and best of all, the owners need to sell and quick so the price is just right. I've sent you all the information. I've already told them that you can't see it today, not unless you want Hetty haunting you down for leaving while on the job, but I arranged a tentative meeting for tomorrow night, and I told them you'd call if there's a problem."

Sam looked at her, keeping the same smile on his face, but behind the facade, there were a million thoughts and none as happy as Nell might assume. "Thanks, Nell. It's great, thank you." She'd done the impossible; she'd found that perfect house in the LA market and now Sam had some serious thinking to do and twenty-four hours to do it. And then, he needed to talk to G.

The later came too soon. They got home that same night after running after an elusive spy for most of the day and Sam had concentrated on his job. It wasn't until they were sitting on their couch that the house became the number one thought. "Nell found me a house," he said, without preamble.

G paused mid-page turn while reading his evening paper. A moment later, he finished turning the page, folding the paper in half again for easy handling. Then he looked over the top, expression carefully mild. "If it can't be found by Nell or Eric, it probably can't be found."

"They found it," Sam answered. "She made an appointment for me to see it tomorrow after work." The words were stilted, still trying to decide what he wanted and what G wanted. "It looks as close to perfect as it would get. Three bedrooms, relatively inexpensive. I'd be able to pay the mortgage, alimony, child support, and the bills, and have money left over." Even with hazard pay there wouldn't be much left, but he'd survived with less.

"Guess you can't wait if it's that perfect." G stared at the paper in front of him without really seeing the words. Sam having a place for the kids could only be a good thing. They needed that stability. It was odd to think of his own house being empty of both furniture and partner, even odder to realize it _would_ seem odd to be alone again. "I can drive in on my own tomorrow if you're taking the meeting. You won't have to worry about dropping me off after work."

Sam frowned as he looked at G. He wasn't sure about the house, but the fact that G might not go with him had never crossed his mind. "Don't you want to see it?" He pulled the paper down, careful not to break it. "I know we haven't talked about it, but the divorce is a month away, and I'm not sure- I don't want to rush into anything, G. You don't deserve that. We take it slow, see where it goes and we have our own privacy, right?" he said, but the confusion could be heard in his voice.

"I thought that's why we were waiting. First my divorce and then we try a relationship, and we can't do that if my children and I are already living with you, but I'd hope that you'd spend time at mine and vice versa, and not just crushing when things aren't right, and that's why I thought you'd want to see it, see if you like it." Even as he said it, he knew how stupid all of that sounded. "It's the normal thing to do, and it sounds...." He shook his head. "Degrees, foreign languages and the only word I can think of is 'stupid'."

"I haven't thought about it." Realizing how that sounded, G shook his head. "Not the relationship." He had to swallow after saying the word. It wasn't one he usually included in his personal lexicon. "Finding a house, moving out."

Folding the paper, he set it aside while resisting the urge to get up and pace or go into the other room. "It doesn't sound stupid. Just...normal. And we're not. I'm not. That's why I wanted to wait. I thought at first it was because you're still someone else's husband until the divorce is finalized. And, in part, it still is. But, more than that, I need this time with you and the kids to prove to myself I won't run away. You are-" G gave up, pushing off the couch to stand and move. "I know you trust me with them. But, I don't know anything about stability or family or any of the things someone should know to be in those kids' lives. Those kids mean everything to you."

"I can't say that finding a house was a priority for me." In fact, Sam had ignored the issue, bringing up work any time that Hetty had mentioned a permanent solution. It had worked well, because Hetty never spoke directly and Sam could always use bluntness to stop any fishing expedition. "Last time I saw a house was with you months ago."

His stillness on the couch was the opposite of G's pacing, but inside Sam was just as restless. "You know we never really talk about things. We says something, the other agrees or not, we're done. We need to talk about this, G. I wish we didn't, but I have the kids to think about it, and you're right that they mean everything, but they aren't the only ones who are important. We can stay. I don't need to own a house. It's a bargain, yes, but it's also a lot of expenses for me. The point is that I want to do what's best for all of us. A house would give us a buffer, time to get used to this. Maybe it'll give us this time you need. On the other hand, staying is an option. They can share a room. It's not a big deal, and they get to spend time with both of us. I need to know what you want too."

When his pacing stopped, G was standing opposite Sam and for several heartbeats he just stood and stared at his partner. It was the first time he really looked at what was right in front of him. He saw his partner, the man who had proven to G not everyone left. He saw the house that had been his mental representation of 'home' for more than twenty-five years. He saw his partner sitting on a couch G had stopped thinking of as Sam's and started thinking of as 'theirs' so many weeks ago he wasn't sure when the change happened. It had been months since he felt like an outsider in his own home.

"I want..." G rubbed at the back of his neck. "I want what's best for you and the kids, Sam. If that means moving into a house closer to their mom and their school, then you need to do that. But..." He took a breath and dropped his hand. "I'm not in a hurry to see you move out."

That was exactly why Sam could see them skipping all those steps that normal people followed. G already wanted what was best for him and his children. "I'm sure that house is not as perfect as Nell thinks. After all, the kids won't have Uncle Callen there, but we can still see it and find a reason why it doesn't work. Better than to explain why I didn't go." He got up, feeling a little better. "We're both crazy, you know that right? This could blow up in our face, until then, let's see what I can make for dinner."

* * *

Crazy was exactly the descriptor in G's mind a month later as he and Sam checked into a nice hotel off the main Vegas strip early Saturday morning. Their identities for the weekend were an investor in town for a conference and his 'associate'. They had a two bedroom suite with a central living area, the window of which provided a view of the lights from the main strip not far away. Upon entering, they searched and cleared the suite automatically.

But, for all the security precautions, this wasn't an op. There would be no report of their time for these two days and the precautions were their usual security consciousness that permeated their lives on and off the job. No, this wasn't an official visit at all.

Sam's divorce had been made final earlier in the week.

"You hungry?" G asked, flipping idly through the room service menu. "We never did stop once we passed up that place in Barstow." Twenty-four hour room service and free wifi were basically the best parts about staying in Vegas. G's gambling extended to risks on the job and the occasional friendly bet. But, he hadn't saved enough to impress Hetty with his frugality by dropping a few hundred on a roulette wheel or black jack game when he wasn't undercover.

Of course, room service would also allow him to put off taking a much bigger risk than any he took on the job. Just for a little while longer, until he could convince his head they were really here and doing this.

Sam looked at G for a moment. Food hadn't been on his mind at all. Since the divorce, he'd thought about this trip, about what they were about to do; he'd also thought about surprising G, but that hadn't lasted long. G was keeping track of the time, and taking him to Vegas without previous knowledge would drive him crazy, and that wasn't the mood Sam was going for.

"I can always eat," he said with a shrug. "I can live without it at the moment." He took the jacket off and put it on the back of a chair, before unbuttoning the shirt sleeves and pulling them up. It was probably unnecessary considering that this wasn't work, but he liked to live the cover and that led to a shirt and jacket instead of his henleys and jeans. "You still okay with this? Just because the divorce went through it doesn't mean we have to rush through things. If you need time, it's fine."

"No." G stopped to watch Sam get comfortable. It was rare to see his partner in a suit. While G had practically forgotten he was even wearing one at the moment, he was so used to going undercover in them, they usually sent Sam out as muscle of some variety and rarely the kind that wore button downs and jackets. Dragging himself out of thoughts gone wandering in the direction of undoing a few more of those buttons, G shook his head. "I mean no, I don't need time. It's been six months already."

In reality, it had been more than that. The feelings for his partner had started years ago. But, he'd never thought anything would come of them and it was surreal to know it was up to him, now. The only barrier to what he wanted was his own insecurity and self-doubt. "I'm still okay with this," he said firmly. If he kept putting it off, asking for more time, eventually it would become one more thing G wanted and sabotaged before he could have it. Crossing the room, he stopped in front of Sam, so close it wouldn't even be stretching his arm out halfway to reach out and touch Sam. But, he didn't touch. "More than okay. I want this." He swallowed hard, forcing the unfamiliar candor. "I want you, Sam. I just don't want to fuck this up, with you ...or the kids. But, especially with you."

Sam went from worried to amused as G spoke, and a little relieved, too, because the lack of smooth talk proved just how real this was. G was always smooth when it was an op. "I want it, too, and right now, that's the only guarantee. I thought I was doing it right the first time, and we know how well that went. There are no guarantees, and with how close we are, with our job, we'll fuck it up somewhere along the line, but...." It was his turn to hesitate. He didn't like to give guarantees that were based on nothing more than a gut feeling, but that was all he had. "We know each other as well as we know ourselves. We'll figure it out."

He moved closer and put a hand on G's hip. "I don't know when this started, before Sudan, that's for sure, but you're the one I want, the one I trust. The rest will come." He leaned down, staring until they got too close and he closed his eyes as their lips met for a third time. 

Since that night in the hallway, Sam had been thinking of this, waited for the moment it would happen, and now that it was here, a kiss was not enough, not even close. He moved closer, holding G tight against his own body as he poured everything he was feeling into that kiss.

G was a man of words on the job; orders, lies, politics, double- and triple-talk. His words had been hesitant because he didn't trust them off the job. But, there was nothing hesitant about his response now. Just half a step was all it took to meet Sam half-way; they were so close. One hand cupped behind Sam's head, the other sliding over and around his shoulder, G opened to the kiss and everything that went with it.

Each time they had kissed before, he held something back. Six months of waiting, having just within reach what he'd wanted for so long, and not taking it had left him with an entirely new appreciation for the word 'yearning'. He'd made himself wait, made both of them wait, until there could be no other claim but his, until he could be reasonably sure this desire for his partner wouldn't ruin that partner's life. But, patience had worn out as soon as their lips touched this time, leaving only a too long denied hunger in its place.

"I've changed my mind," he said breathlessly when they parted for a moment. "Forget the food." Then, he leaned in to recapture Sam's lips, fingers moving to start on the buttons driving him nuts just to think about only moments before.

More proof shirts were evil. Sam liked his clothes a lot more, but instead they were fighting with buttons while they kissed, trying not to pull away while needing the space to open them. Sam was the patient one of the two, but they'd been waiting for too long. He pulled away just enough to pull his shirt off, before reaching for G's and doing the same.

The sun filtered through the tinted glass and the commercial curtains, casting a game of chiaroscuro on G's skin, but Sam could still see the scars of the bullet wounds. His fingers moved slowly over G's chest, tracing each one. _So close to losing G_. He should have known back then. Maybe a part of him had. 

Sam raised his eyes and met G's, before closing the gap again. "No more waiting." He was kissing G the moment he finished talking, while he deftly opened the belt and pants. They needed to be naked and now.

"Good." The word was barely distinguishable, a mumble of sound between kisses. Despite the shivers the touch of Sam's fingers brought, G pushed aside all thoughts of those scars and the shooting three years earlier. That way lay thoughts of blood and pain and the regret found while almost dying in the arms of the man he'd fallen for and would never have.

"Waiting," he added, mirroring Sam's action in tackling belt and pants next, "like patience, is highly over-rated."

They needed less thinking, fewer memories...fewer clothes.

Sam's laughter turned into a rumble from deep in his chest as hands began to explore each other. "You wanted to wait."

"And now I don't."

There had been more words and banter in his head, but it was hard to think when they were trying to get naked, except that as Sam pulled G closer he felt the familiar weight of the Sig, and he started to laugh again. "We'll have to be patient enough until we take off all of our guns unless you want to explain why one of us get shot by mistake." He knew that neither of one them would go anywhere without their issued gun and a spare. "Probably easier if we move this to the bedroom."

He kissed G again, before grabbing his bag. As a married man, condoms weren't something he'd worried about for a long time, something that still didn't come naturally, but the box was in his bag, with lube. His guns were on his person, and his partner was right next to him as they got into the bedroom. It was all that a man needed.

The bag was set on the desk there, and Sam took the closed box of condoms and lube and tossed it on the bed, while each gun and holster were put on the nightstand, next to the cell and the badge, while G did the same on the opposite side of the bed. "This was a lot smoother in my head," he said, but he couldn't help but smile, because this might be new, but felt right. In the end, this was who they were, two men too paranoid to go anywhere without a piece, who made sure that they were always ready to protect themselves. This was natural and right.

Sam quickly got rid of his clothes, before lying across the bed and pulling G down on the bed with him once he'd stripped as well. "Not as smooth as James Bond, but I have you here with me and he doesn't. I win."

"Wait. I could have had Bond?" G asked, all innocence, even as he moved closer to Sam on the bed, practically crawling over to him. "I can live without smooth."

Kissing Sam once more, G pressed against him, that first blissful shock of skin-on-skin contact causing him to moan against Sam's lips. The feel of a firm body against his, hot and hard, shouldn't carry the ability to both excite and reassure. Yet, despite G's propensity for solitude, his partner had gotten under both his defenses and his skin and nothing had felt as right in what seemed like, and probably was close to, forever.

"So, long," he muttered between kisses, his hands acquainting themselves with every dip and curve of muscle along Sam's back and arms. "Wanted you for so long."

"I thought you wanted James Bond," Sam answered while the kisses never stopped. There might have been a chuckle in there, but it was muffled by G's skin, lips moving everywhere and never being enough, searching for G's lips time and time again. "I'm right here. No more waiting."

He flipped them over and lay on top of G, while he reached blindly for the box of condom, staring at his lover. "Do you know how long it's been? I've never betrayed my wedding vows." It had been about his oath, even more than his wife lately, but it didn't diminish the fact that he felt like a teenager, with sex feeling forbidden and exciting and even awkward, but not enough to stop that sense of anticipation that gripped you and made everything better. 

"I want to -" Even saying it felt strange, disrespectful to God, but mostly to his partner, but it didn't make it less true. "I want to fuck you. I want to see you come, feel you. I want _you_."

"There's no betrayal here," G returned in a husky tone barely recognizable to his own ears. Six months had been too long to wait and not long enough, at times. But, in this much, at least, there was nothing to regret. Reaching over, he took the box from Sam, retrieved a condom, and tossed the box to one side.

"Yes," he groaned, the rest of Sam's words catching up with him., thighs parting around Sam's hips in clear invitation. The more Sam talked, the more G wanted his partner _now_. Putting the condom, still in his hand, on the pillow to one side of his head, G reached between their bodies and took Sam's cock in his hand. A part of him couldn't believe he was allowed to do this. The majority of his mind still functioning through the haze of lust, however, was revelling in the weight of it in his hand. He leaned up for another kiss, his next words barely a breath of air between their lips. "I want you to fuck me, Sam."

"Yeah." Corny or witty remarks felt out of place, but instead a simple acknowledgement of something they both wanted felt just right. 

Sam reached for the lube and began prepping his partner. He didn't ask how long or when was the last time. He didn't have to ask to know that those bullets had stopped even the occasional encounters from before. More proof of just how well they knew each other. 

"I'm going to take care of you," he whispered as his fingers slowly opened G up. Sam had spent the past few years protecting G, and now it was taking on a different quality, not just concerned about G's health, but about him in a way he wasn't allowed to do before, and it showed in the slow way that he prepped his lover ignoring his own needs as his cock pressed against G's hip, the friction driving him mad, but not enough to risk hurting G. "Wanted you for so long." Their lips brushed as Sam talked, unwilling to move away until he had no choice as he pulled his fingers out of G and reached for the condom.

G Callen and the concept of being taken care of were not well acquainted in any interpretation of the phrase. But, by the time Sam finished prepping him, G wasn't overly concerned with his instinct not to let others see the weakness, the need. His body had relaxed its usual rigid control and all he could do was just hang on and _feel_. Eloquence had fled. Words had turned into more kisses.

And, still, when Sam stopped, reached out, G could mirror the action. He caught hold of Sam's wrist, eyes never leaving Sam's face, and shook his head slightly. "Just you," he breathed. If Sam insisted, G would agree. But, if something were to happen, as it could, given their jobs, even if he didn't fuck this up, G wanted to give Sam this one moment when there was literally nothing between them, all defenses, physical and mental, lowered just for Sam. "I trust you."

Three words that to Sam meant more than the 'I love you' that sent people packing. Three words that made Sam realize what G was asking. Sam just stared. He hadn't had sex since before Sudan and he was tested and vaccinated for just about anything on a regular basis, but even then there was a chance, however remote. "You're not just trusting me. You're trusting that I read things right with my ex. Are you sure?"

G simply nodded, the words almost an afterthought just in case Sam needed to hear it as well as see it. "I'm sure."

Letting go of the condom, Sam leaned down and kissed G tenderly. "You're insane." The words were said affectionately, almost a compliment, but then Sam wasn't even asking about G, so maybe he was just as crazy.

He picked up the lube again and spread it over his cock. The rush seemed to have evaporated now that it was so close to their grasp, now taking care of his lover became more important than getting off. Sam hooked G's legs on his elbows and pressed his cock against the puckered opening. He leaned down for another kiss, before he started pushing in _oh so very slowly_ , wanting to enjoy the sensation as G opened up around him for the first time, body hot and welcoming as Sam moved inch by inch, feeling their connection as they brought down the last wall that stood between them as Sam bottomed out.

"Don't...." He pressed his forehead against G's, breathing harsh from the control he was exerting. "Don't move. You feel so good."

Sure the excruciatingly slow pace was going to be the end of him and mildly surprised when it hadn't been, G nodded. Exhaling slowly, the sound suspiciously like Sam's name, he curled his hand around the back of his partner, and now lover's, head. He groaned quietly. "Right. Not moving."

Breathing shallowly and letting his hands wander all over as much of Sam's body as he could reach, G felt that initial burn of pain, expected after so long without doing this, fade away as his body adjusted to Sam's cock stretching him open even as G's body gripped it tightly. It had been so long since sex had been about emotion the sheer force of this connection between them should have broken G now that they had allowed themselves to feel it.

But, Sam hadn't left. _G_ hadn't left. They might be insane, but it was a shared insanity that somehow made all the rest less important.

And yet, still did nothing to curb G's inability to be still once that first brief discomfort was gone.

"On second thought," he rasped, "moving could be really good." Kissing Sam again G shifted his hips up, trying to drive Sam a little deeper inside him if that was even possible. He could feel the tension in Sam's muscles, just beneath the surface, as he tried to remain in control. And, G suddenly wanted to feel what would happen if Sam's control snapped and all that power was unleashed. With a devilish grin, he twisted his legs until he could get one foot on the bed for leverage and one pushing against Sam's shoulder, opening himself even further for his lover's pleasure. "Let go and fuck me, Sam."

Right there was the man who could make him laugh one moment and lose all grip on reality the next, embodied in two little sentences uttered so close together. Maybe later Sam could think about the way he managed to do just that, but that was for a time when his entire body wasn't fighting a losing battle, odds made even worse by that grin. 

Sam didn't even want to know how G knew that he never let go, not really, not completely, not at work, not during a fight, and certainly not in bed with his wife, but G was asking him to do just that, to trust G and himself. "Crazy man," he murmured, before dipping his head for a kiss. It was all the warning G got, before Sam started moving with gentle strokes that only lasted a few minutes, before the rhythm increased, and slowly that control that G had been feeling melted as another type of tension built, fueled by each new thrust, until he was pounding into his lover, cock pushing deep into G's body. There was nothing gentle now, no tender words or soft touches, but the sliding of damp skin, the noise of flesh hitting flesh, the harsh grunt of increasing desire. Sam reached between their bodies and began jacking G off. "Really good yet?" he asked in a breathless voice.

"Almost there." Spoken as they were between heavy pants, the words might have been either teasing taunt or early warning. Even G wasn't sure any longer. Hands grasping the headboard to brace himself, he was hardly a passive participant. The more Sam's control slipped away, the more G used his own body to urge his lover on, pushing closer to drive Sam's cock in deeper.

Now, with Sam's hand on him, that need to match intensity for intensity was burning away the last of G's own control. "Fuck...Sam..." Any claim to eloquence he might have had was gone. Then Sam's cock hit just the right spot to send what felt like lightning along G's veins and the mounting tightness at the base of his spine snapped. "Sam...!" He came almost suddenly, spilling warmth over Sam's fingers as his body rocked from the rush pleasure.

Sam watched as emotions flickered on G's face, fighting to stay upright, because he wanted to watch every instant, despite the burning need that was consuming him from the inside like a flame looking for ways to escape. When the last shake subsided, he let go for G's leg and leaned down on his lover's body, leaving only enough space that he could move, rocking faster and faster until the last strand of control snapped as his orgasm washed over him to placate the fire that had been built up over months.

His body went slack, weight baring on G. He nuzzled G's neck as he waited for his breathing to allow him to speak again. When it did, Sam drew his head back and stared at G with a genuine smile. "You're the craziest man I've met, always rushing in, but this, waiting-" He nodded. "You were right. I couldn't do this unless I knew that I could give you everything part of myself, and now I can." He brushed his lips against G's softly. "I love you, G."

G reached up to cup Sam's jaw in his hand. "And you thought I couldn't be patient," he teased, giving his partner a lazy grin. He trailed his fingers along Sam's jaw before lowering his hand to trace the lines of ink decorating sweat damp skin. "I've waited for you a long time, Sam. I've watched you every time a case comes up that puts what you hold honorable in question, especially the ones that make you question your own honor. What happened with Jada wasn't the first time I've seen you question yourself that way. I meant what I said before. I needed to be sure my usual tendency to run when I get too close wouldn't kick in. But, I don't want to be what what makes you question yourself, either."

It was, perhaps, the most he'd ever said as openly in his life. G should have been getting ready to run. And, yet, he wasn't the least bit inclined to even frown.

"And because I love you," he added with a smile. "I'll even consider sleeping in a bed to save your old bones. But, only if the black and modern appliances that clash with my homey kitchen disappear."

Neither of them needed to harp on the same subject over and over. They had said what they needed, and Sam could show his appreciation for the candor and patience in more tangible ways than mere words. Instead of more discussions, Sam laughed. "Since we both love each other, I guess we can compromise on the appliances and furniture." He pulled out and lay down next to G, putting an arm around him. "We've got through wars, terrorists, marriages. We can get through the dilemma of the espresso machine."

Together, they could get through anything.


End file.
